


Tattle

by imdex



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Clickbait, Dom/sub Undertones, Dress Up, F/M, I'll add more tags later, Light Dom/sub, Mild Sexual Content, Rumors, Thalmor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6960271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdex/pseuds/imdex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who on Nirn thought of 33 'life-changing' things to do with cabbage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattle

**Author's Note:**

> Check out SoftlyTea's story Clickbait!  
> http://softlytea.tumblr.com/post/144851958253/30-days-of-skyrim-drabbles-day-7-clickbait
> 
> So yes. I think I hit on every thing I'd been challenged to do here. If not I give myself an A for effort at least.

_Third Emissary Rulindil,_

_Attached within this missive is a most detestable boor made list mocking the Aldmeri Dominion. Such an audacious list of human made filth and lies would normally go unnoticed, but the contents within mention myself, you, and honorable Lady Elenwen.  
_

_The fools even went so far as to draw a crude likeness of me to add to this abomination! This is most unacceptable and abhorrent trash, a mockery of the Thalmor. Not only that but how on **Nirn** can these belligerent fools find thirty three things to do with cabbage?! Life changing nonetheless? Nonsense!_

 

Rulindil silently read over the remainder of Ondolemar's note with an amused uplift to the corners of his mouth, the wrath of the Commanders scrawled words tangible, normally flowing handwriting jagged and harsh.

Idly he wondered what kind of damage could be had with the sphered vegetables when it came to gathering information from tight lipped prisoners.

He shook his head and pulled the newspaper clipping from the envelope. Though folded neatly the article had no doubt suffered the fury of the Commanders hand. The parchment was wrinkled, no doubt held tight within Ondolemar's gloved hand as he had read it. 

Taking a sip of his brandy Rulindil carefully unfolded the offensive list and laid it flat before him. Staring back at him was a rather well done rendering of the outraged mer…excluding one impressively _bold_ part of his face. 

Rulindil pursed his lips tight. 

_Ondolemar's nose isn't that big…is it?_ He frowned and cocked his head in thought. _No not that large at all._

Sitting up straight and putting on his best attempt at a 'Mature Mer' façade, Rulindil looked closer. Squinting proved that someone had indeed gone over the Commanders face with their own little doodle and black eyes looked on with the slightest flicker of mirth.  


_Best not let him know._

Quietly he whispered the words into the empty room.  
_'Ten Things You Didn’t Know About The Thalmor (Number Seven Will Shock You)'_  
He sighed. How he _loathed_ these kinds of articles.

_'1. Clothes make the man, it is said, and I think we can safely extend that to Mer, too. No matter how much distrust you may harbor for our resident Talos-haters, I'm sure we can all agree that their outfits are indeed superior.'_

Somewhere behind him a small body snuck in the shadows of his quarters, making a line for the article mentioned superior robes he'd carelessly shrugged off and tossed haphazardly on his bed, a smile on their face. 

_'It is said that the design was inspired by a passage in an ancient text referring to holy worriers clad in black and gold, who played an important role in the early days of Altmeri society. Whatever the history, we rather like them. And remember, Radiant Raiment in Solitude carries a range of Altmer-inspired designs for the discerning customer: Spring sale starts Fredas 18th.'_

A visit to Solitude was in order then. The owners of the aforementioned store likely suspects in the assistance of this list. Yes, they had to be questioned…he wouldn't consider visiting the shop for shopping purposes...not at all. 

_'2. Thalmor agents are exceptionally skilled in combat, especially the magical variety. However, given their longer lifespans, it is perhaps unsurprising. It is clear that Nords could be equally as superior, given a few more hundred years of life.'_

A muffle spell was cast silently and his guest set to undressing herself as the interrogator whispered out the article with slight annoyance now. 

'Equally as superior…what nonsense.' 

Rulindil could see why Ondolemar would be upset with this hodgepodge bit of human rubbish. 

_'We also wonder if what they say about tall men extends to Mer, too, but we'll leave that to your imagination.'_

Midnight eyes slid over the third entry and a snide smirk graced his features. Perhaps not _all_ of the offensive article was rubbish after all as he continued to the fourth piece. 

_'…while Ondolemar of Markarth (pictured) comes a respectable fifth in the rankings in this month's issue of 'Handsome Men of Skyrim''_

The third emissary raised an intrigued brow. Ondolemar fifth? Who, then, were the ones claiming spaces four to one? Reading further Rulindil realized he was treading into the boundaries of his mention within the 'respectable fifth in the rankings' Commander's heated letter. 

_'5. The horrific reports from Northwatch Keep are enough to make even a Dunmer's blood run cold. Heartless, ruthless, sadistic, and brutally efficient'_ They weren't lying… _'-but could there be a glimmer of 'humanity', if you'll pardon the expression, under that murderous exterior?'_

Ah, there it was. His upper lip curled in a sneer.  


_Note to self: Question the Breton._

__Speak of the frisky little cretin and she'll come as it's said._ _

Carefully the intruder crept up behind him, taking care not to let the robes alert their rightful owner that they where being _dragged_ let alone being used as ill fitting attired for a _human_. Thankfully the now hunched over and eagerly reading owner of the superior robes was too far gone in whatever sat in front of his focused ebony eyes. 

_'6. You'd be forgiven for thinking that a busy schedule of inquisition and torment doesn't allow for much relaxation, but when not hunting heretics, we can assume that our pointy-eared guests'_ -the pointy eared reader gave a slight snarl- _'enjoy much the same pursuits as we do. After all, they have a rich cultural background and some of the best (if rather verbose) literature comes from the Alinor publishing houses.'_

Rulindil stiffened, piquing irritation fading quickly to worried embarrassment.  
_'…he…he wouldn't.'_

_'We hear that some is rather - **risqué** , but you didn't hear that from us.'_

__He had an idea of **who** one might hear such things from. Somewhere in the back of his provoked mind a voice spoke up softly and he hesitantly let Imani off the hook. The Breton might be a wonderfully rotten, insufferably lovable, and playfully devious little blight but she wouldn't do that to him. _ _

__Besides, he rather preferred her form of revenge._ _

__The smile that had started to grace his features melted away as he read the seventh paragraph._ _

_'7. Little is known of the Embassy's enigmatic interrogator. Perhaps this is for the best, as it is said that just one look at him could turn a black Khajiit white. Is it merely the knowledge of his professional expertise that causes such terror, or could he perhaps be hideously deformed? (We exhort our readers to stay safe, lest they unwillingly find out).'_

__Rulindil's lips pursed tightly, willing himself to overlook this..this… _nefarious_ insult to his suspected appearance. But alas, the insult had hit a bit lower and harder than he cared to admit. The mer reached out for his quill, ready to write out a rather sinister reply to the staggeringly ill-advised cur responsible for this._ _

__His hand hovered over the feather as the shadows beside him manifested in the form…of his robes? Slowly Rulindil pulled his eyes from the rubbish he'd been reading and blinked at the sight._ _

__Imani peeked out from beneath the exceptionally large hood that would have covered half her face had one fully engulfed sleeved arm hadn't been holding the leather away from her the one eye staring back at him. She was practically _drowning_ in the heap of black and gold. _ _

__"Is there a special reason as to _why_ you're wearing **my** robes?"_ _

He gave himself a mental pat on the back for the threatening undertone in his question and fought off the merriment that nearly caused the him to smile as she grinned. She was positively _adorable_. 

__"You have the honor of addressing a member of the Thalmor." her chin tilted upward, forgetting that she needed to hold the hood up. The leather promptly fell over her face and her smile only grew as she easily pictured how silly she looked._ _

__"Bask in it."_ _

__Rulindil remained silent. A smile crept across his face knowing she couldn't see it. He cleared his throat and put on a rather dangerous glare._ _

"You think it wise to _steal_ from an officer of the-" 

She pulled the hood back up and frowned.  
"Silence!"  
He blinked.  
"You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to." Rulindil's breathing picked up as that marvelously ravishing smile crossed her features, green eyes darkening as she picked him apart with her gaze. He swallowed thickly but waited for her to continue. 

__"Now" she pointed to the floor beside the chair "on your knees."_ _

His skin prickled with an undertone of insurgence, the thought of _obeying_ such a command coming from a human still stirring the now dimming coals of his ire, but then again the thought of obeying such a command coming from Imani had always turned out to be most _enjoyable_. 

__The Altmer glared at her as if he detested the thought but willingly rose from his seat, his breeches not helping to obscure the his growing arousal, and silently sank to his knees._ _

"Good." The Breton pulled the hood back and he smirked. She'd gone through the trouble of tying her hair back into a ponytail like him. "The Imani Dominion is here…" his brow rose and she puffed her chest out proudly, looking down her nose at him "and I'm more than capable of watching you _very_ closely." 

__Black eyes glinted in sardonic amusement._ _

__"Something on your mind?"_ _

__His eyes crinkled slightly at the edges._ _

"You are aware that impersonating, let alone stealing from, an officer of the Aldmeri Dominion is punishable by death, _Breton_." 

__Imani smiled back at him.  
"Oh, I know." She allowed his robes to slide open and his throat tightened as the damned leather and belt hid the more…appealing bits of her anatomy to his now ravenous gaze. She held out her hand with a smart little smile before she realized with a scowl that it was covered by the long sleeves. Imani yanked the offending covering back and Rulindil growled lowly. _ _

"I've taken the liberty of acquiring… _precautions_ in case I happen across a Dominion officer." 

__**Oh fuck yes**_ _

__She advanced slowly, making sure to portray the menacing kneeling mer with every single inch of her five foot..maybe four? frame, his cuffs glinting in the light of the sconces._ _

__But then the hem that was about a foot and a half too long caught under her foot._ _

__Imani stumbled forward and as the mer lifted to reach out to catch her a loud rip was heard. She grabbed onto his shoulders and looked back down, lips tightening at the sight of the tear, and snuck a hesitant glance at him._ _

__"Breton."_ _

__The playfulness of her gaze grew and her fingers promptly dug into his shoulders._ _

__"Enigmatic interrogator?"_ _

_Of course she'd been reading over his damned shoulder...again, tie a damn bell on her, Rulindil._

"Defacing the robes of a Thalmor officer brings with it most _unspeakable_ consequences." 

__Fast as lightening wrapped in a bundle of superior robes, Imani bolted back from his grip. Rulindil rose to his feet, ebony eyes locked fiercely onto her grinning face, and took at step towards her._ _

"You will remove them _immediately_ , girl." She bounded away, holding the leather up out of the way of her feet. Imani spun to face him, flipping the hood back up with a taunting smirk that she _knew_ would land her in a world of unbelievably pleasurable trouble at his hands. 

__"Come over here and make me."__  
**_Gladly_**  
What ensued was a most entertaining chase that was sadly short lived. The hood had again blinded her and with a rather loud *thunk!* the Breton crashed into the door and stumbled backwards heavily into his arms. 

"Let me see." 

She whined and held her head harder, peeking up at him in pain, pupils a bit too wide. 

"Imani." 

She didn't put up much of a fight as he pulled her covered arms away to look at the rather sore looking red bruise that had already gained ground across her skin.  
"Stop looking at it! It hurts worse when you look at it with your black elf eyes!" Said eyes rolled and their owner smirked as the Breton gave a half hearted smile. 

An idea crossed his mind as he vaguely recalled the obscene list Ondolemar had sent him. Being an interrogator meant Rulindil possessed expert skill in restoration magic…and right now he had a… _patient_ that needed his attentions. 

"That is a rather unpleasant looking bump." He scooped her against him and picked her up. "I do believe you require my _diligent_ care, Breton." She bit her lip, looking just the slightest bit dazed. "Wouldn’t that be interfering with official Thalmor business?" a glance back towards his desk to the forgotten article. Rulindil began to walk towards the bed. 

"You are Thalmor business." 


End file.
